Deducing a Mind of a Detective
by Dean-Winchester-Loves-Pie
Summary: Sherlock has a hard time deciding on what his thoughts are trying to tell him. **This is my first fanfic, let me know what you think and or if I should make more chapters! Thanks(:
1. Chapter 1

The door creaked loudly, echoing through the whole flat. The only sound heard was water dripping from a leaky faucet, as well as the heart beating inside his chest. The man pushed the door open completely and stared into what seemed like an endless pit of darkness. He took one step into the flat, using his shaky hand as balance along the walls. Maneuvering around what felt like a maze, he realized how strange it was that the place he has lived in for nearly a year felt so altered in the dark. Approaching the living room, he noticed a small amount of light shining through a small crack of a door at the end of the hallway. Moving his body around objects in front of him, he managed to make it down the hallway to the door. Cautiously thinking if he should or shouldn't open it, but he felt it was necessary to check in with his flat mate. He forced the door to open a few more inches, sufficient enough to let him see inside. He peered in only to be not surprised by his flat mate standing by the window deep in thought. This was typical for him but still wanted to make sure everything was okay.

"Sherlock?" He whispered, but his flat mate did not respond, therefore he spoke a little louder, "Sherlock?"

Sherlock turned his head enough to see the man at the door in the corner of his eyes. However he didn't seem interested in any sort of conversation with him and continued to be distracted by his own thoughts. Seeing that nothing was wrong, the man slowly turned around and put his hand on the handle, until Sherlock caught his attention.

"John?" he asked in a monotone voice.

"Yeah?" There was concern lingering in John's voice, knowing that Sherlock only speaks unless it was necessary to and it has been several days since Sherlock has said a single word to him.

Sherlock was quiet for a few seconds before finally responding, "Do you ever feel that there is something you can't quite understand? You think of it constantly and no matter what it won't leave your mind? It keeps you awake at night, follows you throughout the day, interferes with everything you do, and after all of that it won't go away. There's always a reason for something, but for me this one thing has been bothering me for some time now, and I'm really unsure why it's causing me to think about it as much as I do."

John froze in disbelief. It was one thing for Sherlock to talk about his own thoughts, but another for him to tell John how he was feeling. It was Sherlock Holmes, he never let little things bother him, nor talk about his feelings.

Ah—ahem, well to be completely honest, I can't really help you unless you tell me the thing that is bothering you. You know I am here for you, Sherlock, I always am."

This time Sherlock turned his whole body and faced John. Sherlock at first looked bewildered at the words John had said to him, as if he was surprised how much John actually cared for him. But that was short lived and soon his face relaxed and turned back into an expressionless stare and spun back at the window.

"Thank you, but I can handle this on my own. Besides you probably wouldn't have been any help to me anyway."

John felt almost hurt from what Sherlock said but knew that he was only insulting him because he was frustrated and thought leaving him alone would be the best idea.

"Maybe one day you can explain to me what you mean but you're probably right, I wouldn't be any help. Well I just stopped in to see you if you were alright, seeing that you are I'm heading off to bed. Good night, Sherlock."

Sherlock stayed motionless and didn't respond; John sighed and shut the door behind him. Once again he stared back into the darkness and proceeded to make his way back to his room. It was late and decided to get some sleep before Sherlock could drag him off somewhere for another case. He got into bed and his mind started to wander. It baffled John what something would bother someone like Sherlock Holmes so much. It kept him awake for some time before finally he was able to doze off.

This is my first fanfic, let me know what you think and or if I should make more chapters! Thanks(:


	2. Chapter 2

John awoke to the sound of the violin playing from the living room; he groaned and looked over to look at the time. _10:36. _He thought he might as well get up and eat some breakfast before Sherlock pushes him out the door. He made his way to the kitchen, made him and Sherlock tea, as well as some toast with jam. John gently placed Sherlock's cup on the table beside him, he received no thank you or any retort. John didn't expect anything from Sherlock, but a simply good morning once in a while would greatly be appreciated. Before John could relax in his chair and read the paper, the noise of the violin dramatically stops playing. He stares up to see his flat mate looking intently at the cup of tea. It was strange to see Sherlock acting like this but dismissed it and sat in his chair and began to read the paper.

"I'm sorry."

John almost spit out the tea he was in the middle of drinking at the moment Sherlock said that.

"Excuse me?" The shock in John's voice was noticeable but he has never heard Sherlock apologize for anything and it completely taken him a back.

"You heard me. " There was a bit of annoyance in his voice since he hated to repeat things more than once.

"Yes, I heard you but I can't believe those words came out of your mouth." John gaped at him, with wide eyes hoping he would explain what he would be so sorry about.

Sherlock stood still staring at his untouched tea, "The way I treated you last night was uncalled for and I shouldn't have said those rash words. You didn't deserve it; my frustration got the best of me and decided to take it out on you." The words actually sounded sincere, and made it seem that Sherlock was sorry for the way he treated John.

"Um, yeah—apology accepted." John's voice was quiet, but lost in his thoughts making out what had gotten into Sherlock.

Sherlock pushed the now cold tea away from him, and picked up his violin and continued to play where he left off. John still sat in his chair, stunned at the events that just happened and his thoughts began flooding his head.

_Sherlock is actually being sorry for his own actions? That doesn't seem possible. Is something wrong with him or does he really mean what he meant?_

John managed to get back to reality and realize that Sherlock was studying every expression John had been making while in thought. Sherlock's dark curls and piercing blue eyes continued to face in John's direction, and after tolerating it for quite some time he began to get a bit peeved that his flat mate wouldn't leave him alone.

"What?" John snapped.

Sherlock broke away and walked past John and into the kitchen. He rummaged through a few stack of papers that were scattered on the table, put on his coat and headed down the stairs.

John whipped his head around, "Where do you think you're going, Sherlock? You haven't got any cases in the past couple weeks!" he shouted, but the only response he received was the door slamming from downstairs.

John wasn't going to try and go after him, it was probably better for him to let off steam then keeping it in. He finished his tea and paper, by that time it was nearing noon and Sherlock still was not back. He was surprised Sherlock actually left, knowing he only leaves the flat unless it was important enough or a case was an 8 or higher. John decided to get some fresh air as well, take his mind off everything. He grabbed his jacket and headed to the stairs, his footsteps echoed throughout the stairwell, and close the flat door after him. He turned his back to 221B Baker Street and headed off down the street.


End file.
